Date: Mon, 7 Oct 2002 16:37:17 +1000 (EST)
From: slutkristy@yahoo.com
Subject: Fuck the Holidays part 1
There's blasphemous/religious stuff so if that stuff
offends you, please don't read this. Likewise, if
you're too young, in the wrong area, offended by
girl/girl sex, offended by toilet play (then you're
missing out!), offended by girls who aren't dumb and
blonde, or just plain offended, do us both a favour
and go away.
In other words, you should only be reading this if
you're allowed to and want to. Simple? Okay...
I walked along the side of the carpark, occasionally
stumbling on the cracked paving. Like I was paying any
attention to where the fuck I was going. Honestly,
these seaside holidays were fucking boring as hell,
and it was getting worse every year. I'm 19, I've
reached that stage where I'm just growing apart from
my family, and as sad as it is, there's nothing I
really can do about it, even if I could be fucked...
Is this where I go into the "I've got blonde hair
halfway down my back, 32C tits, blah fucking blah
blah" description of me? Well. Long blonde hair hasn't
been in style since the 80s. Even most porn stars have
caught up with that now. Likewise I've never worn
lacey underwear in my life. Eww. Anyway, for the
record my hair is cut spock rock style and black. I
have no idea what bra size I am. Show me a girl who
has any two bras that are actually the same size, and
I'll show you someone with implants. They're not all
that big though. Because while I'm quite tall, I'm
pretty thin. And guess what, thin AND big breasted are
not a natural combination.
Let's just say my titties are a nice handful and I
like playing with them, and letting my friends play
with them. It's the closest I'm getting to sex at the
moment, those drunk moments that are all laughs and
jokes at the party, but you know you're going to be
ferverently masturbating to the memory as soon as you
get home, and hopefully, so is she. At least I wish
she is, that is. Some of my friends are hot and I'm
totally aching to fuck them.
But no luck. I haven't got laid in six months. I'm
crabby as hell. I want sex and I want it now and
everyone else, unless they're going to fuck me, is
totally irrelevant. My chances of scoring at wholesome
family beachside holiday town are remote. There's the
odd teenage party house, full of daddy's spoilt little
bourgeoisie girls, drinking stolli and banging 28 year
old local surfers who're either going to knock them
up, or give them the clap. There's like a 2% chance I
could score with one of those blonde hoes. Make that
3%, it's trendy to "experiment" with bisexuality
nowadays. But I've only got sex here once, and that
was with an older goth girl, when I was 16. We
fantasized about abducting one of those blonde sluts,
and tying her up somewhere and shitting all over her
fake tanned body.
The closest we actually came to it was when Corinna,
the goth chick, convinced me to let her take a crap on
my chest. She started my love affair with female
faeces, and all things anus-related. The only trouble
is that she lives interstate, and I've never found
another girl who's into that. We wrote a few letters,
sent a few dirty emails, then lost touch. She dyed her
hair a sensible brown and became a law student. She
wears white fucking capri pants these days. I bet she
looks like Shakira or some shit. It's a shame. A super
hot coprophilliac goth with a joy division tattoo is a
terrible thing to waste.
Every year, when my parents make me come with the rest
of the family for the obligatory two weeks, I have
vague fantasies that I'll hook up with one of those
surfwear sluts in such a filthy manner, and get to
practise my latent domme skills, corrupting the bitch
totally. Or better yet, having three or four of them
invite me to stay in their parent's house, and having
them use me, beat me, abuse me...there's something
wonderfully, pant-destroyingly erotic about sex with
people you despise, especially the degredation of
submitting to them.
Sometimes, being a dyke by default is totally weak.
I'm handicapped by the fact that I find almost all
boys phyiscally revolting. Otherwise I'd have my pick
of the highschool kids here. I get enough of them
hitting on me at the pub. Hmm. Football team gangbang.
Now there's an unappealing thought. Or I could fuck
some ageing businessman living out his mid life
crisis. If there was money in it, I'd probably
actually do it. I've had enough shitty "I want to try
being bisexual like I read in cosmo" lovers to know I
can fake it with the best of them...But there's been
very, very few guys that ever turned me on.
Not so Corinna, goddamn she ruled.
I remember one time we were walking half drunk through
the cemetary out towards the highway. She stopped in
front of this huge tombstone, and suggested we both
piss on it. I was drunk, and feeling very punk rock so
I readily agreed. We soaked the last resting place of
some poor moron, and stood back, pants down, to
survery our handiwork: urine, greenish yellow against
the granite, dripping down the headstone. It looked
good. No. Good's not the word...more like "delicious".
By some unspoken, sudden agreement, we both dropped to
our knees and began licking up our combined piss. God,
this was perverted.
And thanks to her, it got so much worse too.
We were on our hands and knees, licking the tombstone
greedily, occasionally swallowing each other into
passionate kisses as our tongues met on the pee
stained granite. Each of us had a hand working
furiously in our cunts, our pale white butts seemingly
humping nothing in the dark night. Musta looked kind
of funny.
I'm naturally pretty submissive. So when Corinna
groaned out "eat me, whore!" I nearly tripped over my
panties getting around behind her and latching my
mouth onto her cunt. I licked furiously, and I have to
admit inexpertly, slobbering all over her thighs and
stabbing into her hole with my tongue (hey, I was only
sixteen), but it did the job because she came in
shuddering waves, her head resting against the grave.
I couldn't held giggling when she rolled over: her
hair had ended up soaked in our piss, and was
plastered to her face. "Shut up, bitch" she laughed,
and before I knew it, she was on me, wrestling me to
the ground, with her knee in my stomach, pinning me.
Her piss soaked her dripped around me and stuck to my
face as she bent down and kissed me deep and long, her
pierced tongue bitingly cold in my mouth.
She stood up, lifting me, embracing me, turning me
round, sitting me down on the grave and pushing me up
against the piss soaked headstone. She lifted herself
off me and with a lingering touch said "wait there,
Chloe"
Yes. My fucking name is Chloe. Do you have a problem
with that? Because if you do you're not going to get
to whack it off to the sex scene that's about to come
up...no? Good. Let's go on then.
So I'm lying there on the grave, legs spread wide,
previously unmentioned tshirt pulled up over my boobs,
jeans nowhere to be found (I did later. They were very
muddy). It's the middle of the night, I'm still pretty
drunk, I'm in a graveyard in a crappy beach town, I'm
swimming in my own girl cream, masturbating, awaiting
the return of an extremely perverted girl whom I just
met three days ago, who's going to do debased to me
things that will probably send me to hell for all
eternity. The sheer thought made me masturbate even
harder.
Presently Corinna returned. She had the most evil grin
on her face and I saw why as she held it up before me.
It was a thick wooden crucifix. About two feet in
length all up. I don't know where the fuck she got it
from but I had a fair idea...I seemed to remember it
sticking up from a bunch of flowers and shit in front
of a recent grave. My my my. Naughty. Her grin widened
as, placing a finger on my lips, she lowered herself
so she was level with my crotch, spread wide open. She
roughly teased the skin at the entrance to my cunt
with the base of the cross. I knew what was coming, I
knew it was going to be excruciatingly painful, and I
knew I wanted it and would beg if I had to.
As it was, I started to say "please" but it turned
into
"pleeaasssaaaaaaaauuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!"
If the birds nesting in the nearby trees had any
respect for tradition they would've all taken flight
in an orgy of flapping wings. But they didn't,
bastards. They were probably too busy watching me
humping baby jesus on the top of some dead guy's last
resting place, screaming profanities and a few "fuck
me Corinna! fuck me jesus!"'s as well. Corinna kept
twisting the wood flat so it stretched me sideways
painfully. It hurt a lot. I didn't care. The unlubed
wood tearing at my labia as it thrust into me hurt a
lot. I didn't care. The granite grave top biting at my
bare butt cheeks hurt a lot. And I didn't care. I was
lost in pure excstacy, in the physical sensations, and
the sheer erotic thrill of doing something so dirty:
being practically raped with a religious icon.
When the cool brass of the little jesus figurine came
in contact with my clit, I lost it completely. The
crucifix was practically ripped out of Corinna's hands
by my contracting pussy muscles. My bowels gave way
for some reason (this has never happened before or
since) and shit splattered out my arse and onto the
grave. And I began screaming in agony, and ograsm, as
the pain of the crucifix inside me, and what it had
done to me soft flesh, began to sink through. Corinna
grabbed me by the throat and started choking off my
screams, laughing at me, and spitting in my mouth. She
relaxed her grip, and I smiled back at her, rolling of
the grave to collapse on the wet grass to the side.
Corinna grabbed me by a fistful of hair and lifted my
face up over the brown mess I'd left on the grave.
"Naughty, naughty bitch!" she scolded, and pushed me
face first into it. I gagged a little, but this wasn't
the first time I'd rubbed my own shit on my face. I'd
done it a few times before in the privacy of my
bathroom. I found out later that my willingness to
submit to this had intrigued Corinna and given her
some ideas.
Still grasping my hair, she lifted me off the grave
and turned me to face her. Laughing at my dishevled
state, she kissed my now brown cheek, getting some of
the mess on herself in the process. Seemingly
oblivious to this, she took me by my hand and led me
off, while I was still struggling to get my clothes
sorted and find my jeans, through the graveyard. "How
did that feel baby?" she asked. "Uhh...well" I
replied, still unable to talk, almost tripping over
the pants I'd just found and was now trying to put on
backwards "I think I may have found religion..."
to be continued very soon.
So what'd you think? Hit me up with email and let me
know. Encouragement and suggestion is appreciated.
Slutkristy@yahoo.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/kristyslutgroup
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